Pimpin' Ain't Easy
by St. Kitsune
Summary: This story is set in an alternate universe, in which we learn that people are not always as they appear. In the meantime, some people are smacked, some are jilted, and others are carted off to a cult. One-shot, but the author could be persuaded...


This is an alternate universe fiction, therefore, there will not be any of the awesome battles or... anything to do with the spiritual aspect of the series. I apologize if this fails horribly, but I wrote it when I was quite tired. This is a remake of the play, "Pimpin' Ain't Easy" that became so popular on DeviantArt. (Yes, I wrote that one, too.) I just made into an actual story with better details and a reworked ending that a good friend suggested. She made a fantastic little comic about it, and I was so pleased, I decided to revisit it. Now, you all must now suffer the fail that is this story. Godspeed, Reader, and may your ocular senses remain intact.

Disclaimer: I own Bleach, believe it or not. It sits in a cabinet right over the washing machine. I also do not own The Boondocks, The Chappelle Show, or any other thing that this piece of fic may or may not reference.

Further Disclaimer: I do not support prostitution, but I do support pimping. All over the world.

* * *

On a lovely afternoon in September, Kurosaki Ichigo was standing on an unassuming street corner with his "nemesis", Aizen Sousuke. Ichigo was wearing a strange overcoat, even though the weather was nearly perfect. Nonetheless, instead of fighting, they seemed to be cooperating – _joking_, even – and carrying on. Ichigo knew that he should not even talk to the "competition", but he saw Aizen as a compatriot, and a fellow… businessman…

"Yeah, I know how to treat my hoes," Ichigo chortled with a cocky grin splashed onto his face, "And they love me for it!"

"All you really have to do is smack them around a little, and they fall in line," Aizen replied as cool as a Christian with aces wired.

As they continued with their witty retorts and back-of-the-tavern talk, a young woman wearing rather… strange attire walked up to the pair looking as demure as a proper little debutante. She approached Aizen Sousuke and tapped him on the shoulder ever so politely. As he turned around to see what had interrupted his well-narrated, detailed story about some new conquest, the teenage girl took off her large, feathered hat and looked into his dark chestnut eyes with her large grey ones.

"Excuse me, sir," the girl asked Aizen with the sweetest smile she could muster, "But I was wondering if you could help me. You see, I've misplaced some of my merchandise, and I was wondering if you had seen it".

He looked down at the girl that possessed long brown hair and flower-shaped hairpins with condescension. He began to laugh in that way that, if you had watched enough movies in your lifetime, you knew that things were about to go down. "No one cares, ho", he barked with a sneer. With that, he smacked the girl across the face. She flinched a little, and looked as if tears were threatening to escape her closed eyes. That is how it seemed, at least.

She put on her strange green paisley-ed hat with the single brown feather protruding from the side, looked the offender straight in the eyes, and with the cockiest smile on her face, she proclaimed, "You hit like a b!tch! Allow me to educate you, sir", and with that, Aizen Sousuke was pimp-slapped so hard, he lost consciousness. "That's called 'keeping your pimp-hand strong'". Looking quite pleased with herself, she turned to the only other person on the scene, Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Strawberry Cristal! So that's where you ran off to! What are you doing here, not making me money?"

"Well, I just wanted to hang out with Aizen, Big Mama", he said with a bit of a petulant whine that was so… un-pimp.

"Really, now? Well, what happened to that money that you promised to pay me yesterday? Y'know, the money that you begged me to give you another chance to get. You were screaming and crying, 'Orihime! Let me give you the money tomorrow! Please! I won't be late again!' I gave you a chance, 'cause you're my best worker, but a pimp's gotta draw the line. Now, where is it?"

"Umm… uh… I spent it on the cab ride here…?"

At this, the girl finally identified as Orihime was practically seething. With murder in her eyes, her voice came to a near growl. "Does Orihime have to choke a b!tch?!"

Ichi… Strawberry Cristal began to tremble at his boss's temper. "No, Orihime doesn't have to choke a b!tch!" he pleaded, "She really doesn't! I've learned my lesson!"

"Just get in the car! It's right around the corner! And that's A Pimp Named Lady Princess Orihime to you!"

"But, Ori-", as soon as he uttered those sounds, silence descended as he saw her prepare for the ritual that every working guy and girl knew all too well: The Pimp's Prayer.

"Everyone, please join me in the pimp's prayer. Lord, please watch over this ho's soul. Please guide my pimp hand and keep it strong, as this b!tch learns a b!tch's place. Amen." She turned and slapped Strawberry Cristal right across the face, but with less strength than her first assault just moments earlier. "I'm sorry, but did you say something, Strawberry Cristal?"

"No, A Pimp Named Lady Princess Orihime", Ichigo said with resignation, which was the wisest choice.

"Now, you're my top earner, but you gotta stay on your game. Black Valentine, Megane Love, and Sex Kitten are catching up. Do you want that?" Orihime cooed with the cutest voice years of acting the part of an ordinary Japanese schoolgirl left her with.

"No, Big Mama", he smiled right back at her.

"Now then, you go on back to the car, and I'll give you a little extra time, alright, honey?"

"You've got it, Big Mama!", and with that, Strawberry Cristal took off the heavy overcoat that he had tied at the waist revealing a mesh shirt and leather, form-fitting pants. He ran over to the ragtop Cadillac, through whose windows one could espy three figures, though only their silhouettes were visible.

As he got into the car, Orihime looked around and took in the Indian summer air. "Well, it's off to do some more pimpin'!" she exclaimed. As she began to head back towards her car, a short girl with black hair and a long forelock that seemed to divide her face walked towards her. She had dark sunglasses, a scarf wrapped around her neck, and a thick coat – a costume one would expect to see if she was a French intelligence officer in some old film noir. She was trying to be… "incognito", but she seemed to fail quite horribly. After all, no one _just _approaches a pimp.

"Umm… excuse me, Miss? I was wondering if those guys in that car were… yours…?"

At this, A Pimp Named Lady Princess Orihime quickly turned around and put on her "business face", which can only be described as an attitude that could sell filet mignon in a steak storm. "Why, yes they are, ma'am. Since it seems that you're in need of my special services, and you don't seem to be the kind to pander, I'll give it to you straight. It's a hundred dollars per hour, and if you're into some… exotic stuff…, then it's fifty extra. You like guy-on-guy action? Well… I leave that up to them. Who's to say? You might get lucky. Are you interested?"

"Well, that's really expensive… I don't know…"

"Honey, did you see my ho's?" Orihime looked over to the Cadillac and whistled. At this signal, the top rolled down to reveal four men. One looked rather unassuming, with black hair and glasses. He sat up front and had his hand on the ignition. The other three in the back were Strawberry Cristal, a man with black hair, shocking green eyes, and cyan tear-marks on his cheeks; and another man with powder blue hair, cerulean eyes, and a fierce scowl painted on his face. "This is one hundred percent, USDA Prime Cut! They're top-shelf, and worth every penny."

"They're really nice, but I think it's still a bit expensive."

A Pimp Named Lady Princess Orihime sighed at the small woman. "You know what? When UNICEF starts pimping, then we'll work out a deal. 'Til then, it's sayonara." She walked away, looking quite exasperated. As she strutted off, the odd girl A Pimp Named Lady Princess Orihime left behind looked down to discover a man that was very much unconscious_. Hmm…_ she thought to herself, _He's not my type, but I know some people who wouldn't mind getting a hold of him. _Her course of action determined, she dragged the man off to some unknown location.

* * *

A few hours later, Aizen Sousuke awoke to the dark and the cold that usually accompany nightfall. Still disorientated, he stood up groggily whilst trying to regain balance. He noticed that he was on a sidewalk, but he definitely was not where he was when he was last awake. "Wh- where am I?" He wondered aloud, "What happened to me?" All of a sudden, he heard the opening of a door right behind him. He quickly turned around to discover a large congregation of females that were eyeing him rather hungrily. He looked up at the sign of the building, and he recoiled at its message: "The Church of Aizen".

The last words he spoke while he was considered a free man were, "Oh sh!t."

FIN.

* * *

The Church of Aizen is a cult (that I may or may not be a part of...) that worships Aizen. It's mainly an in-joke, but hey! You're all in on it! Good on you!

A/N: So, there you have it. I know it fails, but thank you for reading it anyway. Things were edited because I know that not many appreciate coarse language. If you'd rather that I change it, please let me know. I'm here to bring a measure of pleasure to the world, so I might as well give you a healthy dose of cursing if that's what you really want. Who am I to deny you that? No one, that's who. I hope you liked it, and that your eyeballs are still intact.

P.S. If I made any mistakes concerning overt and inexcusable grammar errors, please be so kind as to point them out to me. Word doesn't catch everything.


End file.
